The Gift, Part 2
by TamarinaDC
Summary: Sequel to "The Gift" and Cuddlebug" if you liked those, I think you'll like this one!


STANDARD DISCLAIMER: I own nothing and profit not at all, other than in the satisfaction of letting my mind run free with two characters I adore.

Thanks so much to all who have submitted reviews and added my stories to thier favorites- and thanks to broadwaybound7643 for her services as a beta on this story. Please let me know what you think of it! PS- the semi-serious stuff in the middle came from reading about the gender imbalance after the Indonesian tsunami, when only 1/3 of the survivors were women. With the particulars of Vulcan physiology, a gender imbalance would be even more catastrophic.

The Gift, Part Two

_Good Morning, Nyota:_

_I trust you slept well. Today will be, as usual, a very busy day. We both have the same duty shift, so I will see you in the bridge, but afterwards, I have at least two meetings. I regret that I have not had much time to spend with you lately, and recall the many evenings we spent discussing linguistics at the Academy. However, I would like to see you this evening, if you have not made other plans. I will see you soon._

_Spock_

Every morning for the last few weeks, Nyota Uhura had woken up to an personal note on her PADD from Spock. It was, without any doubt, the highlight of her day. Even if they were only a few lines, it amazed her that this man, who had so many responsibilities, could find even a little time to let her know that she was in his thoughts.

Not even two months ago, she and Spock had shared a wonderful evening. And then the world, or _his_ world, had turned upside down, then vanished. There had been so much for him to do, so much for him to think about- Nyota had never felt so helpless. Their relationship changed after the Xenocide- it became much stronger, both of them having come so close to losing each other. They spent as much time as possible with each other, but during the past several days, Spock had been addressing issues having to do with the new Vulcan colony, and had not had a chance to see her in the evenings. Spock had so much on his mind, yet here he was, regretting that he hadn't had more time for her. How could any man be so considerate? She mused all this over while she showered, dressed, did her hair. Just before she left to head to the mess hall,and then the bridge, she responded to his note:

_Good Morning, Spock-_

_I have no plans this evening and, like you, long for the conversations we used to have. I look forward to seeing you both on the bridge and after._

_Nyota_

She sent the note, then ran down the hall to grab something to eat before her shift. If anyone had been in her quarters they would have seen a men's Science uniform tunic hung on a hook next to her bathrobe.

***

Her bridge shift was uneventful, her interaction with Spock professional. She could tell that he was tired by the slight change in his posture, but he still carried out his duties efficiently. How exactly to do convince someone to rest when they're convinced, with some truth to the matter, that a world depends on their actions? She had sometimes become frustrated because she felt so helpless, and wished she could do more.

Her shift ended, and she went to the mess hall for something to eat. She sat and chatted with some of her girlfriends for a little bit, then grabbed some fruit (in case Spock hadn't eaten anything) and went back to her quarters. She was just about to change out of her uniform when the door chime sounded.

"Come in," she called, and the door slid open to reveal Spock, with a small package in his hand. He stepped in, and the door closed behind him. "I'm so glad to see you, Spock." She smiled.

"I am pleased to see you as well, Nyota. I have missed our evenings together."

Nyota walked over to Spock, threw her arms around his shoulders, and kissed him. She felt his arms around her waist, felt him sink into the kiss. His body temperature was naturally warmer than hers, but she had forgotten how much she loved his particular heat.

He parted from her for a moment. "Yes, I missed that, too." He looked down at the package in his hand,, and then handed it to her. "But I also have something for you- for your birthday tomorrow."

Nyota looked up, completely surprised. "So much has happened... and, with all that's gone on, how the heck did _you_ remember?"

Spock raised his eyebrow. "How could I possibly forget? I have read enough about the dire consequences suffered by men who forget birthdays and anniversaries."

Uhura laughed, still marveling at a man who could endure all that he had, and still remember something as silly as her birthday. But then, she turned her attention to the package.

"What could you have gotten me?" she half-whispered, unwrapping the silver paper. And then she gasped.

Back in San Francisco, during the last minute craziness of graduation, the two had managed to find time for a walk through the Castro and had passed a small store selling musical instruments from Earth and various other planets. Spock, who had become acquainted with the owner over several conversations about the Vulcan lyre, suggested they go inside. There, Uhura was dazzled by any number of musical instruments, but she fell in love with a little antique _kalimba_, or African thumb piano. She almost bought it, too, but decided at the last minute to buy a less expensive, mass-produced model, so that she wouldn't risk losing or damaging it aboard ship. Spock had apparently returned to the store and purchased the authentic model.

"How in the name of all that is holy did I meet a man as considerate as you?" She looked up at him, eyes shining.

Spock shrugged. "It was a logical choice of a gift. I hoped it would continue to remind you of home. I now have a renewed appreciation for such things."

Nyota threw her arms around his neck, careful not to damage her wonderful birthday present. She kissed him, wondering over and over again if she would ever get tired of the sensation of being in his embrace.

"I have some other news, as well." Spock said, when their lips parted. "My father has informed me of his intention to remarry. He has requested that the two of us attend his Bonding ceremony in one month's time. I have already submitted my request for leave, and have been advised that if you wish to accompany me, your leave request will likewise be approved."

THIS caught her totally off-guard. "Remarry? Already?"

Spock sat down on Uhura's bed, and thought for a moment before he spoke. "Our people have gone through a terrible experience, one which we did not ever contemplate. Many of the Vulcans who lost mates in the Xenocide are suffering from mental difficulties. My father is fortunate that he was not as affected as some- that is not to say that his bond with my mother was not as strong as that between two Vulcan spouses, but he and my mother had had at least a fleeting moment before the end- many, particularly those who were offworld, had no inkling of what was happening. For them, one moment all was well, and the next they felt part of their mind being ripped away in panic and fear. The healers have been doing their best to help these people, but there are not enough trained to meet the need."

He continued. "My father met a widow named T'Pyra. Her husband had been a schoolmate of my father, and their families had known each other well. In addition to losing her husband, she also lost two sons. However, T'Pyra is very determined to replace the family she lost, and my father finds her a very suitable companion. Even if they do not have children of their own, they have both agreed to be foster parents to any orphaned Vulcan children."

Nyota sat next to Spock on her bed, contemplating the terrible situation in which the Vulcans found themselves. "So how come they didn't try to pressure you to returning to the colony?"

At this question, she could see that shadow of a wry smile play around his lips. "Probably because, at least in the genetic lottery, I am not that valuable a property. I was conceived through the use of genetic engineering techniques which are, to say the least, inefficient. If I were to attempt to father children with anyone, Vulcan or human, it would more than likely take many attempts before any success. Further, it is _women_, not men, that Vulcan really needs. Of the 10,000 or so survivors of the Xenocide, only about 3,000 are women of child-bearing age. There are approximately 5,000 males of the same age. Of those women, approximately 1,500 are in intact marriages. That leaves 1,500 single or widowed females for 3,500 men. Some men are being bonded to young girls who have not reached maturity, but others..." he sighed, the smile having vanished. "There are some concerns that men will resort to drastic measures to secure a wife.

Uhura had never considered this before. "I hadn't even considered the gender imbalance- I hadn't realize it was so severe. What are they planning on doing to address it?"

"There are many suggestions, most extremely distasteful. They have ranged from introducing polyandry, administering drugs to alter or nullify certain physical cycles particular to Vulcans, or encouraging Vulcan men to bond with non-Vulcans only for purposes of satisfying certain...physiologial urges. Some have also proposed encouraging all Vulcan women to be implanted with multiple female embryos to increase the number of girls in the colony. All of these suggestions are unpalatable, to say the least. But there may have to be a combination of all of these unpleasant options for the next 20 or so years until the population reaches gender parity. And in Vulcan's past, it was not unknown for men to fight to the death over a bride. With our numbers so diminished, we can ill-afford to lose anyone."

Spock's references to "physical cycles" and "physiological urges" triggered something in her memory, something she had sensed during their mind meld. This _something_ involved sex, but not _just_ sex. Spock had turned her attention away from that area, but even in that brief moment, she had sensed how powerful and intense the emotions surrounding it were. She shivered involuntarily of the thought.

Uhura recovered, and then spoke. "So what you're saying is that with you out of the way, that's one less single male to worry about? "

"Your conclusion is accurate. I may one day be requested to serve the colony in some other way, but not, as Dr. McCoy might say, for stud service." He looked up at her, the faint smile having returned.

"Oh, well that's good then, because I'll be needing you here." She wrapped her arms around him again, kissing him well and deeply. And then she jumped up, startling him, and he looked at her quizzically. "What does one wear to a Vulcan wedding?"

The question, coming as it did out of left field, left him thoroughly confused. "You wish to know what attire is customary for a Bonding ceremony?" But by now she had run over to her small closet, rummaged through it quickly, grabbed a handful of items, and disappeared into the sanitary cubicle. She called to him that she's only be a minute, she wanted to get his opinion on something. His protestations that her uniform would be thoroughly acceptable was met with a silence that spoke volumes Apparently, her uniform would NOT be acceptable for a wedding.

Absently, he picked up the _kalimba_ and began to experiment with its sound. It was a simple instrument, but the sounds it made were pleasant. He experimented with two Vulcan songs, and was about to try a third when Uhura emerged from the cubicle.

"Will this be appropriate?" she asked softly. She was wearing a floor-length steel-gray gown, As a concession to Vulcan standards of modesty, she had fastened a shawl around her upper body, and in honor of her African heritage, she had used another piece of fabric as a head wrap. She looked stunning.

He stood up, carefully placing the _kalimba_ out of harm's way, and walked towards her. "_Amira_ … you truly look regal. But I am afraid you would outshine the bride."

She sighed, removing the head wrap and shawl. " I'll try to find something more appropriate by next month. But I'm glad you like it, anyway." And then, with a wicked smile and a movement Spock could just barely follow, her dress crumpled to the floor. She stepped out of the pile of fabric, naked, except for a pair of gray high heels. "But I think you'll like this, too."

Spock's eyes widened and he felt his heart pounding, but he maintained the composure his people were famous for. "I was under the impression that _you_ were supposed to receive the gift on your birthday, not me." He slid both hands over the small of her back, and down to her buttocks. With the heels on, she was almost able to stand eye-to-eye with him.

"Oh, I plan on making sure you do everything the birthday girl says." She pulled Spock's tunic off, running her hands over his chest. He watched her walk over to the bed and make herself comfortable while he tried to get himself undressed as quickly as possible. He had stepped towards her on the bed when she extended one long, magnificent leg towards him. He took it, observing that her toenail polish had changed from the light pink it had been last time to a deep maroon now. He was about to unfasten the strap when he heard her say, "Oh, you know you want me to leave them on."

He looked up, and blushed a faint green. "You remembered that from the meld."

"That and a few other things. All of which I am ready to explore. Just say when."

Spock's years of training had given him the emotional reserve needed to control his response. Heart racing, pulse pounding, he slowly knelt on the floor and placed one of her legs over each of his shoulders. His lips brushed brushed the soft skin of her inner thighs as he pulled her body almost to the edge of the bed. He could sense her excitement, and feel her heels just barely grazing the skin of his back.

"Then, I believe the proper response is, 'when'."

*

"Did I mention that I love having sex with you?" Nyota murmured, exhausted from the best kind of extracurricular activity. The heels had gone over _extremely_ well (with the exception of one ripped sheet), but they'd eventually been deposited on the floor. Now she was wearing her favorite nightshirt (Spock had been pleased to see that she wore it regularly), and was ready to fall asleep.

Spock considered the question. "Not specifically, no. But I implied that that was what you meant when you started cursing in Swahili, and then again when you were issuing instructions in what I believe is an obscure Andorian creole."

Uhura swatted him with her pillow. "Ok, so I have arousal-induced glossolalia. I'm not the only one around here with a talented tongue."

Spock developed the faintest green tint of a blush, but kept teasing. "I actually look forward to anticipating your next language. I am of the opinion that the next time, you will resort to either Italian or Klingon."

"Klingon hurts my throat. But Orion is always a good bet." She snuggled up against him, contented.

"Thank you again for remembering my birthday."

"You are entirely welcome, Nyota." And then, he added, "Thank you for … indulging me."

She gigged. "Did you like that, Cuddlebug?"

"I'm not sure that "like" is quite strong enough a word..."

"I'm so glad. And I had fun, too. I may not be quite the adventuress my old roommate was, but I'm beginning to think I'm ready to expand my horizons-- as long as it's with you." And then she asked, "Spock, you said your father asked _both_ of us to come to his Bonding ceremony- did you tell him about us?"

Spock kissed her forehead again, and held her close. "I did not have to tell him anything. He told me that he saw the way I looked at you-- he said it reminded him of how he used to look at my mother. He and T'Pyra are ready to welcome us both."

She hugged him one more time. "Then goodnight, my _emir_."

"Sleep well, _amira_." He felt her body relax as she drifted off to sleep, and his own thoughts drifted as well- back to what he had seen in Uhura's mind when they had melded...

*

Two very busy weeks later, a package came for First Officer Spock. He seldom received physical mail, but the package from Earth aroused no real curiosity. He took it to his quarters, examined the contents, found them satisfactory, and then sent Uhura a message:

_Good Afternoon, Nyota-_

_I trust your day is going well. I would be pleased to see you this evening in my quarters when your shift is over. _

_Spock_

In a moment, he received her reply:

_Good Afternoon, Spock-_

_I look forward to seeing you. Please make sure you eat something._

_Nyota_

He took the time to consume a bowl of soup and some bread, and part of him acknowledged that his mother would be pleased to know someone was, as she used to phrase it, "looking after him." He waited for the door chime.

When she walked into the room, she expected to see him in his usual chair, but the room was empty. She did, however, notice a package on his chair with her name on it. Mystified, she read the note attached to it:

_You are not the only one who remembers what was seen during our meld. _

When she opened the package, she blushed down to the roots of her hair. She was holding a dark grey, almost black, Academy instructor's uniform. It fit perfectly. And then, she twisted her ponytail up around itself, and secured it in a bun at the nape of her neck.

"Mr. Spock?" She sounded very professional.

And then Spock stepped out of the sanitary cubicle, dressed in the red uniform of a third-year cadet.

"Good evening, Professor Uhura," he said, in Vulcan.

"Good evening, Cadet Spock," she replied, likewise in Vulcan. "We have several subjects to cover during this session- I trust you are well-prepared? Very well, then- take your seat, and let us begin."

He was quite interested in the evening's lesson plan.


End file.
